


Nothing Dirty Going On

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, F/F, F/M, Lactation Kink, Underage - Freeform, always a girl dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 19:26:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16143911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This was the prompt:In this AU instead of or in addition to girls menstruating they begin to lactate at a certain age. At the road house Ellen has a specialized wet bar with girls available for feeding. They are restrained specifically to accentuate and showcase their breasts. Anyone willing to pay can just latch on and drink. Nothing overtly sexual, just feeding. Copping a feel is over looked, but anything more will get someone banned. It's a business and Ellen manages it well. Dean is one of her girls this particular night.Add'l wishes but not necessary: Dean is aroused by it whether she wants to be or not. Ellen likes to play with them just a little at the end of the night. Maybe take a taste, slip a hand into some panties...whatever.





	Nothing Dirty Going On

My inspiration for this story is the above mentioned prompt, but also my favorite song from the musical The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas. 

A Lil' Ole Bitty Pissant Country Place 

It's just a little bitty pissant country place  
Ain't nothin' much to see  
No drinking allowed, we get a nice quiet crowd, plain as it can be  
It's just a piddly squatin' old time country place  
Ain't nothing to hide at all  
Just lots of good will and maybe one small thrill  
But there's nothing dirty going on  
Nothing dirty going on

 

Deanne looked at the number of pills left in the little wallet of them. Only three left. Combination birth control pill and lactation suppressant. Sure, stopping the milk left her tits pretty small, itty, bitty a-cups rather the generous c cups they could have been, but hunting and needing to stop every couple of hours and pump and dump? That just didn't go together and some monsters were even extra attracted by the milky smell of a lactating Omega. Not to mention, the whole thing was just humiliating and inconvenient. A lot of girls her age stopped the milk. The small tit thing? Just a bonus as far as Deanne was concerned.

What puzzled Deanne was that normally, the pill packs just appeared every month in her toiletries bag, long before the previous pack was ready to run out. Dad had let her have a few natural months, right after she first got her period and her milk, just to make sure everything was running right, but then Dad had handed her the first pill pack, explained how she had to take one every morning, same time, because he needed her, couldn't be having her be all hormonal and leaking everywhere all the time. So, Deanne took the pills, even though they made her sick to the stomach every morning. She was as tough a soldier for her Dad as any boy. 

For that matter, she looked more like a boy than a girl, tall and skinny, no boobs, despite the fact that she was supposed to be an Omega girl, and therefore, beyond curvy and womanly. He didn't let her cut her brownish, blondish hair, but she wore it back constantly in a braid or pony, no bangs, so that was nearly as good as a short do, even better because she would have had to get constant hair cuts to keep it as short as she would have liked. She threw on her jeans, then the tight lycra sports bra that kept her chest even flatter. Then the three layers of tops she constantly wore, boy's plaid shirt on top. She pulled out the weird little amulet Sam had given her all those years ago, so it wasn't hidden. Then she was ready to face her Dad and her brother. 

"Sir," she addressed her father, showing him the nearly empty wallet of pills. "I think you forgot my refill this month."

"Didn't forget, Deanne," Dad said. He'd already been out and gotten them coffee. He handed her hers. Sam was already drinking his. 

"It's something I've been meaning to tell you, Deanne," John said. He took the wallet, with its last three pills in it from her hands and dropped in the motel room trash. "I've gotten a job offer for you this summer. It's good money. You're sixteen now, it's legal."

Okay. She could work. It wasn't like she hadn't been pulling under the table wages of some kind or another ever since she could remember, in one way or another. They weren't the only transient family staying at these kind of motels. She'd babysat their kids plus Sammy, for cash for as many years as John had left her alone with Sam. But what did work have to do with her not getting her pills? If anything, it'd make it harder for her, what with Federally mandated pumping breaks, or worse, not getting those breaks and coming home with full, engorged tits. 

Then it came to her. It wasn't just any job her Dad had found for her. He'd found someone to take her on at a freaking wet bar. The styrofoam cup of coffee dropped right out of her hand and onto the floor, splattering everything around, including her jeans and shoes.

"No, not that! Anything else," Deanne begged. She'd, literally, always done everything her Dad had ever asked of her. But now he was asking her to be put on display, tiny tits out for the world to see and probably mock for their size. He was asking her to let total strangers put their mouths on her tits and suck on them for money, when she wouldn't even let her family, the two people she loved most in the whole world, touch her that way. 

"I know money's tight, but I can do housekeeping again. You know we can always find a place that will let us stay if I clean and you fix things," she said. It'd actually been backbreaking, grueling labor and about the most disgusting thing she'd ever had to do, and she helped her Dad dig up graves on a regular basis, which was saying something. She'd do it again, every week for the rest of her life, rather than work in a wet bar. 

"Deanne, for the same amount of money as cleaning hotel rooms for fifty hours a week, under the table, you can get a legitimate job, where you sit down to work for a couple of short shifts, five nights a weeks. We need the cash. Money's too good to say no. And its for a friend of mine. A girl of hers had some medical difficulties, had to go on pills that come out in the milk, so my friend's in a spot. I owe her a favor."

"Dad, please, no," she said. "You know I hate having them touched."

"You're going to have to get over it," Dad said, firmly, in that voice that meant he was leading up, very soon, to speaking with a slap to the face or maybe worse. "We need the money. Ellen needs a girl. And you need to learn to be an Omega female, get to know your place. Look at you, Deanne. Your mother would be crying if she saw you now. I know for a fact those are my clothes you're wearing. Would it kill you to wear a skirt when we're not hunting? Maybe actually do something with your hair?"

But they were always hunting, Deanne thought. You wanted me like this. She didn't say anything more. She just stared at her shoes and willed the tears to stay out of her eyes. They weren't all her father's clothes, just the shirts. The jeans she bought herself from thrift stores. Dad's jeans, and she'd tried them, looked ridiculous on her, pleated up like crazy when she ran a belt through the loops to get them to stay up at all. She crossed her arms over her breasts and thought about how it wasn't fair. For all her life, up until now, he'd treated her like an ersatz boy, to the point where that was what she wanted for herself. Now, he'd discovered how he could turn a buck and pay back one of those favor debts he hated so much, he wanted her to be a girl, a proper, feminine Omega girl.

"Do you bind your breasts or something? Because you look as flat as a boy and I know you're not."

"No, Sir," she said. "It's just a bra."

"Well, take it off," her father ordered. "I want you to go change your clothes. To something gender appropriate. I want to be on the road, packed and ready to go in twenty."

"I don't have anything more appropriate," she said. "It's all hunting wear."

The last time her father had supervised her clothes shopping, or even seemed to care about what she wore, she was thirteen and she'd just gotten her period and her milk. She'd shot up a good foot since then, until she was five eleven in her stocking feet, six foot once you took her boots into account. The little pink training bra she'd picked out on that shopping trip was long wore to a rag, and the dress, too, was long gone, short enough to be a shirt on her now if she even still had it. 

"Well, put a tighter top on and take that bra off. Ellen'll want to know that you're not a boy and that you do have functional tits."

Twenty minutes later, they were ready to be on the road. She was the master of getting every one packed and ready in no time flat. Just before she made her last trip out to the Impala, her Dad handed her a thin, white sleeveless undershirt. It was one of Sam's. The implication was pretty clear. Put this on or else. She was about to retreat to the bathroom, but he stood in her way, so she sighed and pulled off her oversized layers and sports bra right in front of him and Sam. Then she pulled the tank top on. 

Son of bitch, she felt freaking exposed. It was worse than being naked. The every line of her body was on display. In the cold, her nipples popped up and were poking out all over the place. 

"Well, this is just awesome," she said, a snit in her voice that she'd always been so careful to keep out when speaking to her father before. He grunted something that sounded like agreement. He handed her the over sized outer plaid flannel, because it was pretty nippy for late May out there. Then he went out to the car to wait for them, taking her other shirts with him. 

"Just peachy. Why didn't you stand up for me to him?" she asked Sam. "Aren't you always telling me not to just give in to him."

"But I want you to make milk, Deanne," Sammy said, giving her the puppy dog look. The one that she didn't know how to say no to. 

She'd spent her whole life being given that look and taking care of the boy. If she'd ever willingly give her milk up to someone, it would have be him, her little brother. That's what the milk was for, they said. That's why Omegas, both girls and boys started lactating as soon as they hit their first period and heat respectively, so that they could help provide for their younger siblings. That was why the first child a woman had was always Omega. Of course, Deanne was still only four when it would have been most useful for her to lactate, but the urge was still there at times. If it didn't weird her out, it just would have been another way for her to take care of Sammy. 

"When Dad let you make milk, back when you were twelve, I loved that. I miss it," Sam said. She'd never let him suck on her breast directly, but she pumped and she'd let him drink some out of a cup a few times. Mostly, she pumped and dumped, because Sam wasn't a baby, and he didn't need her milk. 

"Sammy," Deanne started. "You know if I end up lactating again, working this wet bar for Dad's friend, all my milk is going to go to strangers."

"I asked Dad. They don't open until five in the evening, but you'l be making milk around the clock. There'll be plenty to share around, Dad said."

Deanne shuddered. She remembered what Dad had said about her needing to learn her place as Omega, because that meant a lot of things she'd never wanted anything to do with. Things she thought would never be asked of her. Because, Omega boys, they went into heat and were bitches that needed to be bred just four times a year, during their heats. But Omega girls? People considered an Omega girl to be in heat literally all the time. There were those who thought her place as an Omega was as a good little bitch all the time. She crammed down the tears again and stalked right past Sam out to the Impala. 

Dad was getting in the driver's seat, just coming back from the motel office. She tried to take the back seat for once, but when she opened the back door, Dad called out, "Up here, Deanne."

Sammy clambered into the back seat, sprawling out on it, nose jammed into a book already. As Dad pulled them away from motel and out onto the highway, he kept his left hand on the steering wheel and held out his right arm and motioned her closer, an offer for her to cuddle up against him- a rare privilege for an Omega to snuggle up against the family Alpha. She tried to resist at first. Hell, she was angrier than she ever remembered being. But then there was the deep scent of him washing over her and just that sense of him being right, so very, very right. Not in the sense that she actually thought, intellectually, that he was correct that this was the best, most appropriate thing for her. But he was Alpha and therefore, he was right in a way that was felt, right down to the bones. 

She sighed a couple of times. The first was an angry huff, then she scooted over the bench seat until she was plastered up against his right side and his arm was wrapped around her. 

"I know this is a sudden u-turn from what I've always asked of you, but it'll be good for you. Ease you into the next phase of your life. I always thought we had a lot of time left before we'd have find your mate, but you're sixteen. That's only two, three years before we have to get you mated."

She shifted uncomfortably at the thought. She'd never wanted to be mated. True, if it was going to happen, she'd have to get it done before eighteen, nineteen. No Alpha would mate an Omega past that prime age. Deanne, she had no problem being an old maid, so long as she could hunt with her Alpha, be with him.

"Don't want any other Alpha but you," she murmurred into his arm pit. "Not ever."

***

And that was precisely why he had to get Deanne out from under the family hierarchy. Young Omegas said exactly that, that they didn't want any Alpha other than their Daddy and that was right and fitting. For twelve year old. By the time they hit sixteen though, they should be chaffing at their Alpha's touch. They should be looking around them for another Alpha to latch on to. They shouldn't be melting into a cuddle with him like this. 

Deanne, she was bonded close to him, her Alpha, to the point where she identified with him too much. She'd taken to wearing his discarded clothes, listening to his music even when she had her own choice on the radio, and one day, not long ago, he'd just taken a look at her and realized that other than the light brown hair drawn back into a simple pony tail, she could have been mistaken for him when he was boy about to join the Marines. Then there was a time before that where they'd been in a city crowd. He'd been tired, distracted, and he'd lost sight of her for a bit, then when he caught sight of her again, it was out of the corner of his eye and he hadn't thought it was her at first, because he thought he was seeing a boy. She walked and moved like a young man. It was time to do something about that. 

"It'll be good for you," he repeated again. Everyone knew what happened to Omegas who were still with their original families once they passed eighteen or nineteen. It was pretty much inevitable that they'd become their Alpha's in every way and he was not going to do that to her. She was already too close, too intertwined with him. 

First there'd been the last visit to Bobby Singer, who, after seeing how Deanne acted around him, had taken him to the side and outright had said to him, "You prepared to take that girl to mate? Because that's what it's coming to, and soon."

Then there'd been the hunt in Springfield. Actually, it was halfway between Springfield and Shelbyville and they'd gotten a motel in North Haverbrook. It was a successful hunt, by most measures, but it could have ended so badly. After a whole unsuccessful week of tracking the thing by normal means, he'd come to the conclusion he'd needed bait. It'd been a dick move on his part, but he'd asked her and she hadn't hesitated, just sitting out in the open, her feet dangling into the water off the edge of that pier, just like he'd told her. It wasn't until that creature had burst explosively from the water and the consecrated round from Deanne's gun that should have stopped it, didn't, that John realized just how much danger she'd been in. He'd gotten there in time, ended the creature with a silver round to the chest. She hadn't been angry at him in the aftermath, like she should have. Hell, even young Sammy was furious at him. Deanne said she'd pretty much expected that something would go wrong. She'd blindly obeyed him, even though she'd known she might likely die. 

He'd been shocked into doing something, so he'd called his old friend Ellen in a panic, knowing the Roadhouse was a safe place where Deanne could still be protected, but exposed to a lot of different Alphas. There was always someone new coming through the Roadhouse. A lot of Omegas got started at a wet bar and met their mate before a year or two was up. 

Of course, he couldn't go direct to the Roadhouse. Ellen wouldn't want Deanne just moping around the place, waiting until the milk stopping pills left her system. So, they drove aimlessly down the eastern seaboard, stopping for burgers at that place in Maryland that Deanne liked so well, before striking west for Nebraska. They stopped in Louisville because there had been an ice cream shop Deanne had liked taking their time. He'd stopped at a couple of places, real malls and bought her a few clothes- nursing bras in pink, peach, light blue. Lacy and suitable for an Omega. He bought her shirts that fit, that were her own, a couple of skirts even. That night in the motel, he'd dumped her bags out and reclaimed every one of his old shirts.

They weren't taking hunts. Just driving. Their last time as a family like this. He didn't know if Sam and Deanne realized it. It wasn't that he wanted Deanne to go, but the only other alternative was taking her to mate, and that was a step he wasn't prepared to make. If she wouldn't separate from him, as was natural, then he would have to push her away. He'd wanted her to become his soldier, that he'd known, always, deep down that it was an impossibility. She couldn't be a solider in his fight, because she was an Omega and they were nurturers, deep down. That's why God, or nature or whatever you wanted to call it, had given them breasts full of milk from their first maturity. 

After about two weeks of driving, they were about a day out from the Roadhouse and Deanne's milk was probably going to kick in any day now. She'd been complaining about soreness, holding her arms over her breasts all the time and the couple of times he'd gotten a glimpse, they were bigger, like two cup sizes bigger probably. 

John knew for sure her milk was in though when they were about three hours out from the Roadhouse. They'd been in the car since early morning and hadn't stopped except for once, but the side of the road, for everyone to pee. Sam had been making noises about wanting food, but there just wasn't any where good too stop by the side of this state highway they were on. 

Deanne had snapped, "I just want to get to this place and get it over with. This woman's going to look at my tiny titties and tell me I'm not going to be any good for her wet bar. So, let's just get there, so we can get going."

"But Deanne, I'm hungry," Sammy had said, with a particular whine and inflection. "I'm starving."

Deanne had gasped and then made a dismayed sob. The front of her shirt was wet, so wet that it couldn't be hidden by her crossed arms. She'd had let down. Not just let down, but a massive one, still going on from the looks of it. 

"Feed him," he ordered Deanne.

"Dad, no. Please," she begged. 

"Climb over into the back seat and feed him. That's why Omegas have milk. To feed their younger siblings."

"But," she started.

"That's an order, Deanne," he said, firmly. She'd have to get used to the feeling of lips and mouth on her tits. Better the first set was her brother's, rather than some stranger. It took just a few minutes for her to climb over the seat and pull off her shirt. He caught a brief glimpse of her anguish in the rear view mirror, then put his face straight ahead, looking at the empty road in front of them. He could hear movement back there, imagined Sam draping himself over Deanne's body, laying his head on her chest. 

"Dude, do you even know how to suckle without hurting me?"

"Yeah, I know how," Sam said. "Remember Michael Yardsmith? His sister was still feeding him and she never minded letting his friends have some too."

There was a little yelp from Deanne then some of the sibling bickering he was used to hearing from them, something about her fist and his face if he didn't get his teeth under control. Another soft grunt from her and then sighing, that slowly, slowly turned from angry huffs into the soft, contented sighing that you expected from an Omega nursing someone. Then yawns started coming and when John risked a look back into the back seat, the two of them were sprawled out across the whole seat. He was glad that they had this last chance. Deanne had always been so strange and private about her breasts before and had never let Sam nurse, despite the fact that she was near as good as mother to him at times. 

Sam's eyes were closed as he sucked at Deanne's left tit. Deanne's eyes were half shut, but they snapped open when she caught John's eyes on her. 

"I didn't think it'd feel so good," Deanne said. "Feels so good. Making me sleepy though."

"It's okay, Deanne. You can relax. You can sleep. We've got nearly two and a half hours on the road still."

When he pulled into the parking lot of the Roadhouse, their limbs were still entangled. They'd been drifting back and forth between sleeping and Sam feeding from her and Sam's mouth was on her tit when he'd parked the car in front of the ramshackle looking wooden building. It was two places, shared the same parking lot, actually. The first was the bar, across the lot. Harvelle's, it was called. Just a standard bar, served a lot of Bud and shots of whiskey. The place Deanne was headed was bigger- two stories, because Ellen's girls bunked upstairs. It was called the Roadhouse. She'd gotten a bigger, better sign since the last time he was here, in fact. The Roadhouse, he read, in the dull, gray tubing of neon that was turned off for the day, Wet Bar and Family-style restaurant. 

***

Deanne supposed she should be freaking out. The thing she'd feared most had happened and all she felt was a drowsy kind of bliss. You heard about it, of course, the biological reward for letting your grubby brother suck on your tits, but Deanne had never once thought it would fog her head with pleasure like this, make it so very, very amazing feeling to have the milk taken out of you. She didn't remember feeling this good, not since she'd been a little girl herself and she could remember trying to share her mom's lap with a big baby belly and reach around that belly to suck on her mom's breast. 

Intellectually, she'd known that when an Omega let someone nurse on them, their body dumped a shitload of natural opioids into their brain. You learned that in health class. She'd felt a little shadow of that when she'd first gotten her milk and she'd pumped it from her little breasts, but that was nothing compared to the high as a kite feeling that she had now with an actual mouth on her. No wonder you saw Omegas walking around with that dumb look on their face all the time. They weren't as stupid as they looked. They weren't bimbos- they were high. It'd been easy, way too easy to just let Sammy drink from her, on and off, right up until the moment the car had pulled up to her final destination.

The Roadhouse looked much more like a dump than Deanne was hoping, but only from the outside. Inside, the place was clean and dimly lit. Booths lined the walls, empty now. It looked a lot like a lot of family style restaurants they'd been in over the years. This one was football themed, with lots of memorabilia from the local high school team over the decades. The only thing that set this place apart was the bar. The wet bar. It had space for twenty girls, ten to each side. They were a weird little half booth sort of thing. Sort of like a phone booth maybe? They were all open now and you could see an adjustable bench seat. When the doors were closed, you could see that the lower half of the person sitting in the booth would be completely blocked off, inaccessible. Locked actually, by a good, solid, keyed deadbolt lock of the kind that Deanne knew would take even her with her best lockpick tools several minutes to get into. The upper half of the phone booth seemed to be clear, some kind of thick glass or lucite. There was a credit card slider on each of these windows. Obviously, you picked a girl, slid your credit card and the window lifted up, giving access to her top half. Deanne had seen this kind of set up before. They'd eaten at one of these combination style places before. Dad had never taken advantage of the girls in the booths, but Deanne had seen them in action. 

"Dad, I can't do this," Deanne said. It'd been one thing to allow Sammy to put his mouth on her, but total strangers.

"Deanne," Dad said, warningly. 

And then Ellen walked in and everything changed. 

It wasn't so much that Ellen was pretty, because she wasn't. Looked at objectively, she was a middle-aged woman who'd taken good care of herself. Her hair was dyed, she had some wrinkles- crow's feet, smile lines, that little wrinkle between the eyebrows. But what she was was warm. She practically radiated warmth. She smiled and it was bright like the sun in the restaurant suddenly. She had light brown hair that had reddish tones to it. It was lustrous, thick and brushed off her forehead. She didn't wear make up and she wore someone's old work-shirt over a fitted t-shirt, but there was no doubting her femininity. 

She was, without a doubt, an Alpha, one of those rare Alpha females that cropped up sometimes. The scent just rolled off of her, like a super beautiful perfume, Deanne thought. 

"Well, you took your sweet time getting here, John Winchester," she said. "And this must be your girl, Deanne."

"She was on the pills. She wasn't making milk until today anyway," Dad said. "She wouldn't have been any good to you."

"Well, I think you shouldn't worry your pretty little head about what is and isn't good to me," she said to him. "I got ways of getting my girls going, even if they've got those nasty pills in their blood. Now, you come here, sweetie, and let me take a good look at you."

Deanne stepped forward, just enough that she wasn't half hidden behind her Dad.

"Now, you are one tall, skinny drink of water, Deanne," Ellen said, a certain zest and humor in her voice, like she thought that was a good thing that Deanne was shaped like a gangly teenage boy and not like a proper Omega girl. Deanne was over half a head taller than Ellen. Despite that, Ellen seemed to take up far, far more space in the room. Ellen added, "You smell milky. You got a good, strong let down?"

Deanne nodded and looked down at her thin, white tank top. She'd tried to pull that flowered button up Dad had got her closed over it. While it would button, she'd felt just as exposed, but also confined by the close cut cloth. She missed the big plaid shirts that Dad had confiscated from her. You could see the stain on the white tank where the milk had dried.

Then Ellen was addressing herself to Dad, saying, "She'll fit in here nicely. I'll have her give you a call once she's settled in."

"I want to see the room she'll be staying in," Dad said. "Make certain it's safe."

"No man goes up to my girls' dorm rooms," Ellen said. "Just you know it's safe enough my own daughter sleeps there."

"If I'm going to leave my daughter some place, I need to see it's safe."

"The upstairs has got a koro curse on it," Ellen said. 

"Oh," Dad said. He backed up a little from Ellen.

"Now, I'll have her call, soon as she's settled in. She'll do nicely for the job. You'd best get going. I know you've got a long drive ahead of you," Ellen said. 

"We were actually going to get a room around here for the night," Dad said. "I thought Deanne could start tomorrow morning."

Ellen stepped behind the bar. She grabbed a manilla file folder filled with what looked like police reports and newspaper clippings. She pushed it into John Winchester's unresisting hands and said, "Like I said, I know you've got a long drive ahead of you. This is that case I was telling you about. Good hunting."

Deanne sort of remembered hugging Sammy and her Dad goodbye, but without too much fuss or drama, they were gone, and Deanne was left alone in the company of the most amazingly scented Alpha Deanne had ever been in the company of. Ellen smiled again, not just in general, like she had before, but directly at her, warmly. Dean's knees felt like they might give out and her stomach was turning flip flops in her belly.

"C'mon, let's get you settled in your room upstairs. Doors open before too long. I won't put you in a box tonight. You'll want a chance to see how we do things around here before you hop up onta that horse. I like to ease my girls into things before letting the customers loose on ya."

Then Ellen led her back behind the bar, to a locked door. She unlocked it and it opened to a stairs up. Dean immediately thought of the curse Ellen mentioned, the one that had such an immediate affect on her father.

"What's a koro curse?" Deanne asked.

"Koro is the hysterical belief that your prick is shrinking away to nothing. Mostly its nonsense but there are some koro curses actually do shrink your prick," Ellen said. 

"You don't have one of those, do you? I mean, the curse, not, um," Deanne stammered, blushing. You heard a lot of things about Alpha females but you didn't hear a lot of fact. A lot was obvious school yard talk, like an Alpha female had a cock bigger than any Alpha male's cock. Another obvious falsehood you heard a lot was that Alpha females had teeth down there. But the fact was, Deanne wasn't a hundred percent clear on what exactly were the contents of Ellen's well fitted jeans.

"Nah. Anyway, nothing for you to worry about, right? No prick on you," Ellen said. Then she laughed and said, "My mere existence is enough koro for most Alpha males. We'll let you get settled, get a shower, because you really do smell like milk. Most of the girls are off at school or their second job but they'll be home soon enough."

"School?" Dean asked. She'd pretty much dropped out of school last year. School was pretty much compulsory for Omegas through fifteen. It didn't make much sense to keep going when there was so much to do for Dad and Sam, not when she'd be pulled out the next month anyway, put into a new school.

"Yeah, I prefer my girls go to school in the day if they're under eighteen. Keeps ya out of trouble. Don't worry if you dropped out at fifteen. The local high school is flexible. You should be able to catch up, graduate by eighteen," Ellen said. "If you're truly opposed to schoolin', you can look for other work, so long as you're done every day by four."

Ellen led her upstairs to a fairly Spartan hallway and she was let into a small room, little more than a closet, with just enough room for a twin bed and a small dresser. 

Ellen told her, "Smallest room, but it'd be yours alone."

Deanne had never, not once, had a room to herself that she remembered. It was always a shared room with Sam, or shared by all three of them. It was kind of a scrubby room, with faded floral sheets on the bed and a pilled up hand crocheted afghan in barf colors as the only blanket. The dresser was made of pressboard and laminate, the laminate worn off in several spots. Dean dumped her back pack and her duffle on the bed and called it good. It'd be temporary, but it'd be all hers. No Sam leaving his foul socks everywhere for her to pick up. No Dad glowering, watching intently for her to screw up. 

"Were you on the pills long, Deanne?"

"Long enough. Since I was twelve. You can't be a hunter and be all milky."

"I hear ya," Ellen said. "A lot of girls from hunter's families come through here. Their dads got some kind of idea this place is going to teach ya your place and make you a catch for some Alpha. Like this is some kind of Omega finishing school and not a business. Keep that in mind. First and foremost, it's a business. For me. For you too. You watch yourself carefully, you could come away from here with a nice little packet to get ya started in a few years."

"I thought Dad got my pay."

"He'll get your wages, no worries." Ellen said, with a wry smile on her face. "I send him your hourly wages. You get to keep the tips. My best girls make double in tips what your wages are. Even a shy girl like you can make good tips. Now, shower down the hall."

Deanne showered, like she was directed, then went back to her room wrapped only in her towel. It was a little skimpy, that towel and covered her only partly. Ellen happened to be in the hallway, restocking the linen closet with fresh towels when Deanne passed her on the way back to her room. 

"No need to be shy around here, sweetheart," Ellen said, as she noticed that Deanne was clutching the towel around herself, covering her breasts at the expense of her lower half. "Why don't you show me those sweet little titties of yours? Just so I can see whatcha got."

Deanne found herself automatically lowering the towel at the Alpha's request. Her Alpha's request, she thought. 

"Very nice," Ellen said, looking at them closely. She palmed one, held it as if she would have weighed it in her hand, if it had been big enough. 

"I'm not too small?" Deanne asked. 

"Sweetheart, size got nothing to do with how much milk an Omega can make. As for the folks that are buying, there's as many tastes in just what makes the perfect pair as there are customers. Sure, you get a lot of potential customers, think bigger is better. Maybe they think bigger tits mean more milk, maybe they just like them. But for every one of those, you get a guy who's looking for someone that reminds him of his big sister and her little teenaged tits, what fed him when he was a little one. You'll do just fine. I've got plenty of girls that are big, not many that are little and perfect. Do you mind if I have a sample?"

"I, uh," Deanne struggled to answer as Ellen bent her head down to Deanne's breast and latched on. 

Despite Sammy's protestations that he knew what he was doing, it'd been painful until those natural opioids had kicked in. Ellen though, she was a pro. She took as much of Deanne's breast into her mouth as she could, completely covering Deanne's aureola. She squeezed that in her mouth while sucking and Deanne could feel the flow of milk. It was strong. More than that, Deanne couldn't stop herself from gasping in pleasure at the feel of Ellen's mouth. Deanne felt, not just the tingling between her legs that she recognized as arousal, but her whole lower body practically clench. She could feel slick begin to drip from her privates. This was what she'd always been afraid of, why she'd never let Sammy feed from her- that she would feel aroused by it. The funny thing was, when Sammy had done it, she'd felt the sleepy, drugged out effect, but none of this arousal. She didn't think it just had to do with the fact that Sam had been so careless with his teeth and his latch, because she felt the arousal now, but none of the sleepy feeling. A few sucks more and Ellen let her go. 

"Good girl," Ellen said. "You taste real good. You're going to be a hit, once my regulars discover you. Maybe I ought to put you in a booth tonight after all."

She didn't, after all was said and done, put Deanne in a booth. But Ellen did dig through Deanne's small assortment of clothes and pull out a few items. There was a nursing bra in pink lace, a flower button up shirt and a denim skirt. She made Deanne dress in these items. 

"I think your look is definitely girl next door or big sister," Ellen said. Then she pulled Deanne's hair out of its usual ponytail and brushed it out so it flowed over Deanne's shoulders. "You try and hide it, but you are such a pretty, young thing. No need for make up. That'd just hide your freckles. You got a natural beauty to you, girl."

Then they went downstairs. Slowly the evening started. Ellen's girls drifted in one by one, taking their places in the booths. True to Ellen's word, a lot of them were typically big busted Omegas, curvy and soft. A lot of the girls wore not a bra, but some kind of leather harness that left most of their breasts exposed, but lifted and separated them. One by one, Ellen fastened them, by means of the harness, into the booth. The harness restrained their upper arms, while their forearms and hands would be concealed in the lower half of the booth, leaving the Omega essentially helpless, but with their tits perfectly displayed. 

There was one girl that Ellen sniffed and wrinkled her nose at. Then she got angry. She slapped the girl's full breasts, hard enough that it could be heard all over the restaurant. The girl cried out in pain and Ellen just hit her again and again, smacking her tits right on the same spot as before, making an angry red mark.

"How many time I got to warn you about the pot, Marybeth?" Ellen asked, angrily. "You can't work like this. It comes out in the milk. You know that. Go upstairs and pump and dump. I'll be up later to see to the rest of your punishment."

With that, Ellen pulled the belt from around the waist of her jeans. She folded it in half and put it into the hand of the stunned looking Marybeth. Deanne winced just thinking of it. An Alpha didn't hesitate to physically punish an Omega who stepped out of line and while she'd always been good enough most of the time, Deanne had felt her father's belt on her rear end a few times before. But also, oddly, Deanne felt the tingle of arousal, like a phantom of that belt on her own rear and her own nipples tingling as she looked at Marybeth's reddened breasts. She was turned on and felt herself burning with shame, but found she couldn't look away either.

"I need you to be thinking about what you did. This is a business, a family-friendly business, and I can't be having the cops looking around, thinking I'm letting people get high off my girls."

Marybeth burst into tears, but she didn't try to give the belt back. She did protest, "I didn't smoke any. It was just my friends at school and it was just a little bit and I didn't take any at all. I promise."

"Well, maybe you should think real hard about what kind of friends you're hanging out with, Marybeth," Ellen said, sternly, but she took the belt back out of Marybeth's hands and slipped it into her belt loops. "I won't belt you this time, but ten more smacks to get you to think harder about your crowd and your real responsibilities."

And then Ellen delivered them. Marybeth's lip just kind of wibbled for the first three, but then when the fourth resounding smack hit, her floodgates just burst and she started sobbing. "I'm sorry," she cried, as Ellen hit her again. Deanne found herself counting. Seven. Eight. Nine. After ten, the girl said. "I won't hang out with them again. I promise."

"Hey now, all done," Ellen said, and she grabbed a napkin off a nearby table and wiped the girl's tears and runny nose. "You took it well. Now, go upstairs and pump and do your homework and think about things. I'll be up to talk to you later and see to you."

"You docking my pay?" Marybeth asked.

"You know I am, darlin'. You ain't working tonight, are you? Go on. Git."

Marybeth darted into the back room and then up the stairs. Ellen looked after her a moment, said, "That girl," then turned to face Deanne. She visibly sniffed at Deanne and said, "My, my. What am I going to do with you, Deanne?"

Deanne knew what she meant. She knew, maybe from the smell of Deanne, that she knew that Deanne had been turned on by the sight of the girl being disciplined. Deanne felt her face burning and she looked down at her feet. She shifted uncomfortably. Ellen hadn't picked out a pair of panties for her to wear, so she wasn't wearing any and her privates were comfortably damp, leaking onto her thighs. 

"Oh, I can tell you and I are going to have such fun, Deanne," Ellen said. "Later. It's time to open now."

Ellen flipped the switch that must have turned the big neon sign out front on, then she turned the closed sign on the front door to open. Slowly, the crowds trickled in. Deanne recognized the type coming in. Mostly they were rough and ready types like her father, wearing plaid or denim work shirts, jeans, work boots. They might be truckers or mechanics, but they weren't, mostly. They had a certain alert edge to them that meant they were hunters. A few tables filled up and actual, solid food was ordered, but mostly, they were there for the bar and the girls. Ellen had been right, there seemed to be a man for every different type of Omega. 

Because every Omega Ellen had in her line up was different. Oddly, the most popular girl was far from the prettiest. She was kind of on the chubby side and it wasn't like she even had tits that were huge. They were pretty big, but not like crazy big, and they were kind of saggy. There was a line four guys deep waiting for her though. She was blond and had these sparkling blue eyes. She smiled at each of the guys as the top part of her box opened and looked like she would have held out her arms to them if she could have. "Now, you just come here and take what you need, sweetie," she said to the first guy in line. 

"That's Jennifer," Ellen said as she noticed Deanne looking. "Our most popular girl. Like I said, a lot of these guys want a girl reminds them of their Omega sibling. For some of them, that means kinda pudgy and bleached blond."

A while later, Ellen put a burger and fries in front of Deanne and said, "Eat. You look like you could use it. That's the best thing for you about lactating as much as you girls do- you just burn the calories up. But it looks like you ain't got anything to spare. I do like to watch a girl eat."

Deanne ate hungrily. She'd always been lean, one of those fortunate girls who could just shovel the food in and not gain an ounce. The burger was good, cooked just right. She was about halfway through when she was suddenly aware of a familiar sight. She looked up and there was Caleb, one of Dad's friends. He was burly, hair shorn close, his face full of stubble. He had a big bruise on his left cheek and new scar on his chin since the last time Deanne had seen him. She dropped her eyes back to her plate, appetite lost. Things had been pretty awkward between them since last year some time when the Alpha had pretty much offered to buy Deanne from Dad. Luckily, Dad hadn't been inclined to give Deanne up, at least not so young or so cheaply. Caleb had claimed he wasn't trying to buy her, just court her.

"Deanne? Your Dad said you were going to be working here," he said.

"She hasn't started yet," Ellen said. She didn't exactly insert herself between Deanne and Caleb, but it was if she sensed that Deanne was was uncomfortable around the man. There was a definite sense of Ellen being ready to step in. 

Then suddenly, Ellen was on her feet, even before Deanne could hear the Omega, Kyle, one of Ellen's two boy Omegas, cry out, "Hey, watch it, Bub."

Now, Deanne had noticed that no one seemed to say anything if a man caressed the breast he was sucking on, or even rubbed a little on the other tit, even played with the nipple a bit. But this man, the one at Kyle's booth, wasn't sucking on a breast at all. He had Kyle's small right tit in one hand, kneading it, squeezing it so that he was being sprayed with milk. His other hand was squeezing his straining dick through his jeans. The man was pretty much masturbating through his jeans. 

Ellen grabbed the man by his ear, then the left arm just a second later. She wrenched his arm up and she had him in an effective comealong. Ellen was a good six inches shorter than the man and he probably had forty, fifty pounds on her, but she handled him easily, probably partly by surprise, partly by skill and leverage, partly by sheer force of her personality. Her pincher grip on his ear probably helped a lot too. 

"Didn't I throw you out last week?" she asked. "Don't let me see you in here again. You're banned. Means you're a trespasser if you come in here again."

"I can explain. I'm sorry. I just got carried away," the man said as he reached the door.

"I think that hand on your dick was all the explanation I needed. This is a family-friendly place. Nothing dirty going on here, just a chance to feed at nature's miracle food," Ellen said. "Out."

Then the man was gone, Kyle had been seen to and sent upstairs for a breather, and Ellen came back to the table and sat down, being careful to position herself between Deanne and Caleb. "Now, Caleb, you'll have to forgive us, but I'm busy giving Deanne her orientation to her new job. If you're looking for some time with a girl, Trina is free and your type. Or Casey."

"I just wanted to say howdy to Deanne," Caleb said, defensively.

"And you did," Ellen said. "Now, you'll have to excuse us. Don't let me keep you. You might want to call your buddy John. I gave him a heck of a hunt, maybe he might need some back up."

So Caleb left, with a scowl and a glare to Ellen, but he didn't challenge her authority over Deanne. 

"I didn't like the way was looking at you," Ellen said after he was out of ear shot, heading to the door. "Like he thought he could just pick you up like you were milk at the grocery store."

"You're my Alpha now, aren't you?" Deanne asked, hardly aware that she was speaking the words aloud and not just thinking them. 

"Sure am, darling. I'm Alpha to all the Omegas here. I take good care of my girls. And Kyle and Andy. I'll take good care of you too," Ellen said with a broad smile and a beckoning of her arm, allowing a snuggle. Deanne, despite being bigger than Ellen, leaned back against her. Deanne let herself be comforted by the feel of a solid body and warm skin, and most of all by the easy, possessive way that Ellen's arm wrapped around her body and her hand came to rest on Deanne's breast. 

"I just have a few rules I expect you to follow. No drugs, no drink. It comes out in your milk. You work five to midnight, five nights a week, then I expect you to go right up to your room, unless you're with me. I set the schedule, no arguing about it. We rotate weekends. No men, no boyfriends. While you're here, you're my Omega," Ellen said. "That should be all you really need to know."

"And you take a belt to me if I break the rules?"

"I'll find an appropriate punishment you'll hate," Ellen promised.

Before Deanne found something to say in response to that, a man in a light brown sheriff's uniform walked up to their table. He was the actual sheriff, not a deputy. He was handsome enough in a bland kind of way, with broad shoulders.

"New girl, Ellen?" the sheriff asked.

"Well, Cindy got sick and left me. This here's Deanne, Avery. She just here this afternoon," Ellen said. "You want to try? You'd be her very first customer. On the house, of course."

Deanne suddenly found herself being handled. She was shifted until Ellen was behind her, her back to Ellen's belly. Ellen unbuttoned Deanne's shirt, exposing her all the way to the waist. Ellen undid the catches on her nursing bra, pulled the flaps down and Deanne's breasts were free. Deanne felt even more naked, somehow, than if she hadn't been wearing a bra at all. The sheriff was a tall man, so when he knelt down on the ground, he was just about the right height to reach her breasts. He pulled her close, until he was between Deanne's spread legs and put his head to her breasts, nuzzling them a little first, until he suddenly latched on to the right tit. Like Ellen, he was a skilled nurser, his mouth and tongue strong on her. She could feel the milk pulled out of her. Deanne groaned a little in dismay as she realized just how wet her pussy was getting. She wasn't sure exactly what aroused her, but it didn't seem to be just having her nipple sucked on. It was more the way that Ellen restrained her and the way she was exposed like this. The sheriff made happy sounds, little moans of pleasure, around her nipple.

"Shh, Deanne," Ellen said, rubbing her back a little. "It's okay to enjoy it. It's just nature's reward."

So Deanne tried to relax, to let the good feelings wash over her. It was some big handsome stranger that was giving her this pleasure. It was easier than she thought it would be as the opioids hit her brain and she felt relaxed, warm and drowsy. She understood why ever girl locked into her booth had a happy smile, why they'd all been so eager to get to work. It was even easier to let herself feel this with a stranger than it had been to feel it with Sammy. She didn't want to feel so aroused, but she couldn't help it and maybe it wasn't as bad as all that. 

Finally, the sheriff was done. He let go of her tit, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he stood up. He grabbed a money clip out of the back pant pocket of his uniform. He peeled off a twenty and handed it to her. "This is for you, sweetheart," he said. "You taste real good. I can see you being real popular here."

Then he left. 

"You liked that, didn't you, sweetheart?" Ellen asked. When Deanne nodded, she added, "Sheriff Zane is a good man. Helps me keep the place trouble free. We'll have you do a few more in my arms, just to ease you into this. You're being such a good girl for me, Deanne. You keep this up, there'll be a reward for you at the end of the night."

There were a few more men and one woman, all of whom Ellen seemed to know personally, who were allowed to suckle on Deanne's tits. Each of them tipped her, not as much as Sheriff Zane, but by the end of it, Deanne had about fifty bucks tucked into the pocket of her jean skirt. 

The woman was the last to have a chance at Deanne's breasts. She sucked a few minutes on each, then looked up and smiled wistfully. "Looks like we sucked her dry, Ellen."

"Well, she's just off her pills, so it'll take her a while to be milking at her full potential. Good for her production to be milked dry though. Say thank you to Deputy Mills, Deanne."

"Jodi," the woman said. "Off duty tonight."

"Well, Jodi, you come round tomorrow night and I'll let you have first crack at Deanne, if you like."

"I'll do that," she said. 

When she'd gone, after a little more small talk with Ellen, Deanne was told, "You go upstairs, rest for a while, drink a glass or two of water. Come back down in about an hour and a half."

Deanne did as she was told, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen before heading upstairs. She only drank about half a glass before she found herself drifting to sleep atop the scratchy, puke colored afghan as she mused about if it would be too indulgent to buy herself some kind of better blanket with her tips from tonight, or if she would be the kind of girl her dad expected her to be and set those tips aside to give to him later.

She was woken some time later, her shoulder shaken. She was in her usual sleeping position, on her belly, hand jammed under the pillow. She automatically reached for the weapon that wasn't there. She didn't have it any more. She'd slept with a forty-five under her pillow since she was twelve, but Dad had asked for it back earlier today, saying she didn't need it at Ellen's and Ellen had asked him send her without armament. Not finding her weapon, she quickly rolled around, knees in a defensive question, legs ready to kick. Luckily, the person who'd woken her up realized what he'd done and he'd backed up immediately to the other end of the small room. 

"Looking for the gun that isn't there? It takes a while to get used to sleeping without one. At least it did for me," the person said. It was Kyle, the Omega who'd been pawed at by that creeper earlier. His Omega boy tits, she noticed, were actually bigger than hers. 

"You're from a hunting family too?"

"Not nearly as well known as yours," Kyle said. "Everyone knows John Winchester. So, I guess it's been two and a half hours. Ellen says she wants you to go down now. Night's nearly over."

Deanne tried to shake the sleep out of her head, but couldn't stop yawning, even as she crawled out of bed, tugging down the denim skirt which had become rucked up embarrassingly high as she slept. .

Kyle smiled at her and said, "I remember when I first got here and started lactating so much, I was sleepy all the time too. It's hard work for your body to get used to making so much milk. It gets better. You should drink some more water too."

"Are there a lot of guys like the guy that got banned?" Dean asked. 

"Nah," Kyle said. "Mostly word gets around that Ellen doesn't put up with that shit. I worked a different bar before coming here and it was way worse. The guy that owned that place expected me to let the customers do anything they wanted to my boobs, so long as things stayed above my waist. Some people are really messed up. That's all I'm saying. So, you'd better get down."

Deanne straightened up her clothes the rest of the way and made her way downstairs. She found Ellen. The place was a lot less crowded now than it had been. It was about eleven thirty, close to closing time and most of the tables were empty. Most of the milking booths still had customers, though some of the booths were now empty. Had the occupants been milked dry?

"Hey, Darling," Ellen said. "I was wondering if you'd like to try a booth, just for a little while? End of the night, just a few customers left. You've probably made more milk. Can I see?"

Ellen grabbed her by the boobs and squeezed them, expressing milk, smiling at the fact that she got a spray and not a few measly drops. "Yeah, you're ready."

So, Deanne was led to one of the booths and shut into it. The lower door was shut first. Then Ellen said, "I won't restrain you tonight. It can take a while to get used to. Here, let's just open your top up."

So Deanne's shirt was opened, then pushed down on her shoulders. The pretty pink nursing bra was left on, but the flaps were left open. Then the flaps that shut off access to her lower half from the top were put down. Luckily, Deanne wasn't claustrophobic because she could see how this might make a girl antsy. She just told herself that it was for her own protection, to keep her safe from guys like the creeper from earlier. Only then was the lucite window lowered. It was only down for a short minute though, before some awkward, lanky guy with hair like straw, trucker hat shoved down on top of his head, came up to the window. He ran his card through the slot and the window slid up again. 

"Wow, you really do look like my sister Earlene, before she had her babies," the awkward guy said. "Prettier. May I?"

"Yeah, it's what I'm here for, guy," she said and she couldn't help but smile because he was actually pretty sweet and gentle about the whole thing. Unlike Sammy, the guy knew how to keep his teeth out of things. When he latched on, it was almost with a soft grip, but then he actually started sucking and it was strong enough. He laid a hand on her other breast as he sucked, but didn't actually move it, just laid it there. When his five minutes were up, he swiped his card again, then took his time with her other breast. Then, when he was done, he folded up a ten and a five and tucked them into the little slot where her tips were supposed to go. The lucite window slid shut and then he turned and walked away. Dean served two more customers, they left her with a pussy that ached and dripped. 

Eventually, it was closing time and Ellen was shooing customers away. The staff began closing clean up- bussing tables and the like. Ellen, for her part, used the time to check on her girls, and the two boys. She spent a little time with each one as she let them out of their box and restraints. For the boys and some of the girls, it was just as simple as a pat on the head, maybe a gentle pat to the cheek telling them that they did real good tonight. Tips were collected from the booth too, most from the little box attached to the slot, but some had scattered to the floor. Ellen put the tips from each girl into one of those manila envelopes, sealed it and wrote their name on it, put it to the side, then went on to the next girl. Some girls, they got a little more in depth treatment. 

Oh, sure, they got their tips put to the side and their cheeks patted. But Ellen might spend a few more moments with them, snuggling a big maybe. Patting their ass cheeks instead of the facial cheeks. A couple of the girls, Ellen latched on to one of their tits and suckled a while. It took a while this time with each girl and by the time Ellen got around to unlocking Deanne's box, the rest of the milk bar and restaurant had closed around them. The chairs were up on the tables and someone had swept up at least. The lights were put down low. They were alone in the empty space.

"Well, now, Deanne," Ellen said, as she was pulling the small handful of bills out of Deanne's booth. "Looks like you did real good for your first night. Now, don't you worry about your tips. I play it straight with my girls. You get everything you earned, only I count it out first and take out Uncle Sam's cut and send that on to him, so you don't need to worry about taxes. Sound fair enough?"

"Yeah," Deanne said. She squirmed on her seat though, still uncomfortable from her arousal. She couldn't wait until she could get back upstairs to her room. It was the first time she had a room and it'd be the first time she could masturbate without having to worry about being as silent as the grave, for fear of waking Sam. She definitely needed to take care of herself.

"Oh, sweetie," Ellen said, turning the full force of her warm smile on Deanne. "It looks like you just got left hanging, didn't you? Don't you worry, I got this for you." 

Ellen leaned into the booth and planted her lips onto the side of Deanne's neck, planting kisses that started out as feathery light. Her scent, which Deanne on first meeting her had thought smelled like perfume, smelled more like warmth and rich, musky sweetness. Something like musky vanilla, but if it also smelled like pie baking and cinnamon, but also non of those things. Deanne drew a deep breath in and she found herself utterly relaxed, feeling utterly safe. Feeling, in short, everything her Dad had ever made her feel, but more. It was that sense of rightness that went bone deep, permeated her gut. So when Ellen tugged up Deanne's skirt, all Deanne did was lift herself off the seat so that Ellen could more easily pull the skirt up around Deanne's waist. 

"You didn't wear panties," Ellen said.

"You didn't pick a pair out," Deanne said.

Ellen smiled and said, "Oh, Deanne, I can tell having you around is going to be such fun. Your Daddy said you were always a good girl for him. You going to be a good girl for me?"

Deanne nodded and said, "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good, now spread your legs for me."

Deanne did as she was told and a moment later, she felt fingers tangling in the hair down below, tugging it lightly, petting her outer labia. Then Ellen slid a finger in between, finding the slick and smooth inner labia and she spent several moments, touching. It was just light exploration at first, feeling Deanne's contours and curves, spreading the slick pussy juices around. Still, it had Deanne melting on the bench seat, moaning softly because she wanted and needed a more direct, firmer touch than this. She didn't know how to ask for it though, but thankfully Ellen understood what those moans meant. She curled her fingers up, seeking Deanne's clit. Once found, she didn't, thank God, rub it directly, but found a place to the side where she could sort of tug and pull the clit hood up and down over the clit. In moments, she had Deanne broken down to a jibbering mess, crying out for more.

"You've been such a good girl for me tonight, Deanne," Ellen said, now tugging faster, harder and it was almost like she had Deanne's clit pinched between forefinger and thumb. "I am so pleased with you. I want you to come for me now."

Deanne couldn't stop herself from crying out. She lost control of her body too. It felt like electricity coursing up and down her spine. She shut her eyes and for a moment, just let go of everything. She came to awareness again not long after, Ellen's hand still in her cunt. Deanne was covered in fluids, her own. There was milk dripping down her chest. Her thighs were damp with her own slick. Her pussy was still very, very wet. And there were tears in her eyes, because never before had her Alpha, despite trying her very best for him, to do everything he'd wanted and needed for her to do, told her she was doing good, that she was a good girl. 

"Oh, Deanne, sweetie," Ellen said. "I can tell you're going to need a lot more cuddling. You know they say, the happier the Omega, the sweeter the milk. You go up, catch a shower. I've just got to put these in the safe and then I'll be up to see to you. I want to get you taken of and to sleep before too much longer. Tomorrow night's a busy night at the bar."

"So, you're keeping me?"

"You bet, sweetie," Ellen said. "You and me? We're just getting started."

FIN


End file.
